


Writing Like We’re Running Out of Time

by disastergrace



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Doesn't Cheat, Alexander Hamilton Meets His Match, Alexander Hamilton is George Washington's Biological Son, Alexander Hamilton is Precious, Alexander Hamilton is So Done, But Especially Not Enough Hamilton/OFC, F/M, George Washington is Everyone's Surrogate Dad, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Very Excited, My First Hamilton Fic, No Beta, Original Female Character(s) is a BAMF, Protective Alexander Hamilton, Protective George Washington, Protective Original Female Character(s), Seriously No Beta Reader, There's Not Enough Hamilton Fanfiction In General, icarus - Freeform, let's do this bitches, we go down like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disastergrace/pseuds/disastergrace
Summary: Victoria Marie Fraser: a Scottish immigrant living in the colonies and well aware of the cruelty capable by the King, writes in every free moment, a quill in hand the second she can get a hold of one. She writes, not in a diary as might be appropriate for a woman, but in the form of essays that rail against the tyranny of the Crown.Alexander Hamilton: a bastard, son of a whore, orphaned immigrant from the Carribean with a fighting spirit and a wickedly sharp mind, both aimed at the redcoats with a fury that is unrivalled, accompanied by a determination to make a legacy for himself and the country he’s determined to give birth to.When these two meet, empires are doomed to crumble, and names are destined to echo through time as history is made by two young lovers and their scrappy, equally determined friends. They know- history has it’s eyes on them.  Full summary inside.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Please point out any mistakes you see. We all love Hamilton, and now that it's on DIsney+ we need to start writing more fanfiction because there is not enough for this fandom, especially in the Hamilton/OFC category.

_**Introduction** _

Victoria Marie Fraser: a Scottish immigrant living in the colonies and well aware of the cruelty capable by the King, writes in every free moment, a quill in hand the second she can get a hold of one. She writes and writes and writes, not in a diary as might be appropriate for a woman, but in the form of essays that rail against the tyranny of the Crown. These writings are what caused her to flee her homeland, the british gentry and soldiers in her town not taking kindly to a woman who thinks as she does- or thinks at all really. But Victoria will not be silenced. Words are her only weapon in an unfair and harsh world, and she will be heard.

Alexander Hamilton: a bastard, son of a whore, orphaned immigrant from the Carribean with a fighting spirit and a wickedly sharp mind, both aimed at the redcoats with a fury that is unrivalled, accompanied by a determination to make a legacy for himself and the country he’s determined to give birth to. He writes vigorously, shouts in the streets, scrambles to fight in the war- anything to make people see that they’ve got to rise up and overthrow a government who treats them unfairly and make their own destiny, and plant the seeds of a legacy that will be spoken of till the end. When these two meet, empires are doomed to crumble, and names are destined to echo through time as history is made by two young lovers and their scrappy, equally determined friends- John Laurens, Marquis de Lafayette, and Hercules Mulligan. They know- history has it’s eyes on them.

Cast: 

Victoria Marie Fraser-

Jenna Louise Coleman (I picture her as how she appears in ITV's Victoria, however feel free to ignore this.)

Alexander Hamilton- 

Lin-Manuel Miranda

Rest of the character portrayed by the original Broadway cast.

I'm so excited about this fic that I'm basically dropping everything else to do this. Now, let's get it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Hamilton/OFC fic that will maintain the musical format that Hamilton is written in. I may change my mind once the fic is complete and go back and rewrite it, but as of now I like including the songs as they convey not only the entirety of the story, but the characterization of our beloved characters themselves. However, I currently am not making the effort to have my own original dialogue fit the rhyming that takes place in the Musical. Maybe at a later date I will go back and rewrite the dialogue to do so, but right now my main priority is getting this story down on paper and available to be read.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Hamilton, the wonderful and beautiful Lin-Manuel Miranda does. I do own the character of Victoria Fraser as well as any changes made to the canon plotline and any original plotlines found in this fic. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you find it enjoyable. AKA- I hope it's not total shit.

_**Unedited** _

It was dark when she stepped onto the cobbled street, hood pulled low over her face and cape pulled tight around her lithe form, shielding the very controversial trousers and loose shirt she wore rather than the appropriate petticoats and corsets. The streets were quiet and her footsteps echoed annoyingly even as she made an effort to tread lightly, occasionally having to retuck a strand of hair that had fallen loose from the low bun she’d twisted in back into the hood and out of sight. 

It was hardly appropriate for a woman to be out at this time without an escort, and if anyone knew of her destination they would scoff and tell her to go home before she got herself hurt. Victoria was hardly considered a “lady”, her financial situation laughing at the thought, but she was not an urchin either. Somehow she made enough to get by through odd jobs such as repairing torn clothes while she desperately tried to publish her papers in her own name, rather than a man’s. Truly a laughable thought, a woman writing and publishing essays. Society saw her only duty as marrying and bearing children, and while she was not opposed to marrying, she  _ was _ opposed to marrying a man who saw her as less and unintelligent simply because of her gender.

Victoria was well aware that she was intelligent, greatly so, and she knew that scared men, a woman with thought. The young gentlemen in her hometown either feared her or thought her insane, and thus they took every opportunity they could to ridicule her and put her down. To her credit, Victoria never went down without a fight, and she gave as good as she got. A learned, unafraid woman who spoke her mind and refused to take an order was a threat to the patriarchy, and worse- she was proud of it. 

The warm light from the tavern turned the street stones a comforting orange-yellow, as inviting as a fire warmed home on a frosty night, cheers and singing songs echoing in the air. There was always something special about this tavern, as men gathered together to share ideas and drinks, hearts swelled with the warmth only found in friendship and alcohol. The door creaked as she pushed it open and stepped inside, lips pulling into a grin at the sight of Aaron Burr before her. While it thrilled her to have someone who’s intelligence (nearly) matched hers and was willing to discuss with her, it equally frustrated her that Burr seemed to lack the passion that usually accompanied such wit. Trying to find out what he truly thought was the equivalent of pulling teeth, and truly exhausting. Eventually she learned to simply enjoy the conversation he was willing to give rather than trying to evoke more, and therefore true satisfaction escaped her.

To always be the odd one out, as a woman, as a scholar, left an empty feeling in her chest. She wanted  _ more _ . More freedom, more conversation, more knowledge, more rights, more, more,  _ more _ . But most of all she ached for companionship. Someone who understood, who gave as much as she did, who burned as brightly as she did. But perhaps she was simply Icarus, stubbornly climbing ever higher into the sky in a search for things she’ll never find, alone in her pursuit and dangerously close to burning out before plummeting into an unforgiving sea. Or, maybe, just maybe, whatever- whoever- she’s searching for is just out of reach, teasingly brushing against her outstretched fingertips and the next step she takes those fingers will finally close around what was so close. 

> “Aaron.” A tall, dark skinned man turned with a grin at the familiar, feminine voice with a pretty scottish brogue that curled the letters in his name. 
> 
> “Victoria,” he strode over to her quickly and scooped her hand from her side, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles before straightening back up with a broad smile. “did you walk all the way here on your own?”

The now free hand rose to the hood still keeping her face from view and pulled it away. Her features were dainty and doll like, bright blue eyes peering at him from under dark brows. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, with full lips and a straight nose that turned upwards cutely at the end. Her hair was the colour of chocolate, and from the size of the plaited bun she’d twisted it into it was obviously long and thick. The contrast between blue eyes the colour of ice and her dark hair was entrancing, and Burr marvelled at the fact that she was still unmarried at the age of 18. 

> “Of course. It’s a quick journey, Aaron, and my attire keeps any curious eyes from causing me grief. Now,” she clapped her hands together and shot him a mischievous grin, “how about some shots?”

* * *

Alexander Hamilton peered across the tavern speculatively, watching Aaron Burr cross the room and approach a hooded figure while his own foot tapped impatiently. Alexander had nearly tripped over himself in excitement when his gaze had landed on the renowned scholar, he’d scrambled out of the chair he’d been occupying in some dark corner and had started to make his way over to the man when the mystery figure had entered and Burr’s attention had been caught. 

He continued to watch Burr, eyebrow quirking in surprise when the man ducked over the unknown person’s knuckles and pressed a familiar kiss to them. The figure was definitely dressed as if they were a man if the trousers peeking out of the cape had anything to say about it, but Burr’s actions were those one would take in greeting a woman. This odd contradiction caused Alexander’s brows to furrow as he leaned forward on his toes, scrutinizing the two intensely. 

Alexander was nearly knocked off his feet when the hood came down and an incredibly beautiful face was revealed. He couldn’t tell the colour of her eyes from where he stood, but her delicate features were impossible to miss. Her full lips were calling to be kissed, her long chocolate hair perfect for both gentle caresses and tangled fingers, her long fair neck begging to be kissed and marked in forbidden purple shades that no polite, unmarried woman should have. His fingers twitched with the strong urge to gently trace the slope of her nose and the angle of her cheekbones, only to wind up twisted in that hair. Alexander cleared his throat quietly in an attempt to dissipate the lump that had formed there, and clenched his hands together tightly behind his back. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, and that smile she sent towards Burr screamed trouble; he had to know her. 

His eyes followed her as she shook her head and gestured for Burr to stay put as she approached the bar, gesturing to the man behind it for two drinks. For an incredibly troubling moment Alexander considered approaching the woman rather than Burr before reality came pouring back in. Aaron Burr was someone important and smart, someone renowned, someone with connections. Connections Alexander wanted access to. His mind made up, Alexander strode across the room with purpose, his body almost trembling with passion and words begging to pour out into the air.

> “Pardon me. Are you Aaron Burr, sir? “ Somehow Alexander maintained his composure, and the words that left his mouth were polite and concise. Alexander Hamilton was rarely concise, he always had something more to say, words pouring from his mouth in a manner that was incredibly impassioned and intelligent, but was rarely ever concise.
> 
> “That depends. Who’s asking?”

Not quite the response he was expecting, but an understandable one nonetheless. “Oh, well, sure, sir, I’m Alexander Hamilton, I’m at your service, sir. I have been looking for you.” Burr’s brows rose at his last sentence, and his stance changed minutely.

> “I’m getting nervous.”
> 
> “Sir… I heard your name at Princeton. I was seeking an accelerated course of study when I got sort of out of sorts with a buddy of yours. I may have punched him. It’s a blur, sir. He handles the financials?” The sentence started off composed but ended up tumbling from his mouth in a rushed jumble, and Victoria, who was now standing nearby watching the interaction, had to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh at Alexander’s mention of a maybe punch. 

The man before her was shorter than Burr but still taller than herself, and incredibly handsome. His hair was darker than her own and tied behind his head, his frame looked handsome- even from behind where she couldn't see his face- dressed in a brown ensemble that, while not finery, looked good on him. 

> “You punched the bursar.” Burr’s brows were as high as they could go at this point.
> 
> “Yes! I wanted to do what you did. Graduate in two, then join the revolution. He looked at me like I was stupid, I’m not stupid.” That last statement was so firm that Victoria couldn’t help but believe him. Burr wasn’t so convinced. “So how’d you do it? How’d you graduate so fast?” 
> 
> “It was my parents’ dying wish before they passed.” Alexander Hamilton’s face lit up at that, the understanding in his eyes telling Burr that this young man shared the label. 
> 
> “You’re an orphan. Of course! I’m an orphan. God, I wish there was a war! Then we could prove that we’re worth more than anyone bargained for…” Victoria had never related to someone more in that moment, as she unashamedly eavesdropped on the two men. The want for a revolution, the all consuming desire to prove oneself. 
> 
> “Can I buy you a drink?”
> 
> “That would be nice.”

Burr wrapped his arm around Alexander’s shoulder and waved his free hand quickly in the universal signal for another drink. “While we’re talking, let me offer you some free advice. Talk less.”

Victoria rolled her eyes, having received this lecture from Aaron before, and took a sip from her own ale. 

Alexander’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion and his face seemed to drop. “What?”

> “Smile more.” Burr smiled widely for effect.

Alexander couldn’t help it, he let out a sarcastic and surprised laugh, “Ha!”

> “Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”
> 
> “You can’t be serious.”
> 
> “You wanna get ahead?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> “Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead.” Victoria couldn’t help the snort that escaped at that, and both men started a bit before looking over their shoulders at her. She raised a brow at them in challenge at their surprised looks. The three of them turned as another young man called out, Hamilton and Victoria looking appraisingly at the new faces while Burr just rolled his eyes in a mixture of fondness and annoyance.
> 
> “Yo yo yo yo yo! What time is it?”
> 
> “Show time!” The ragtag group of three men grinned at each other as the first one to speak leaped up onto a chair and stretched his arms out in showmanship, and the other two started banging on the table rhythmically.
> 
> “Like I said…” Burr declared dramatically, but Victoria was grinning excitedly and bouncing to the beat, her gaze moving to Alexander to see how he was reacting before her grin widened even further at the sight of his own. 
> 
> “Show time! Show time! Yo! I’m John Laurens in the place to be! Two pints o’ Sam Adams, but I’m workin’ on three, uh! Those redcoats don’t want it with me! Cuz I will pop chick-a pop these cops till I’m free!” John Laurens was young, probably younger than Alexander Hamilton, and attractive. His eyes were light green and his face was smattered with freckles, his dark hair contrasting nicely with his eyes and the freckles gave his face character. 
> 
> “Oui oui, mon ami, je m’appelle Lafayette! The Lancelot of the revolutionary set! I came from afar just to say “Bonsoir!” Tell the King “Casse toi!” Who’s the best? C’est moi!” Lafayette’s accent was almost as thick as his wild, tight curls, and even from his brief moment in the spotlight it was apparent the man had quite the personality. The way he moved was unique, not in a bad way but definitely dramatic and entertaining. 
> 
> “Brrrah brraaah! I am Hercules Mulligan, Up in it, lovin’ it, yes I heard ya mother said “Come again?” Lock up ya daughters and horses, of course it’s hard to have intercourse over four sets of corsets…” Victoria had to resist cheering at his criticism of corsets, despite her having a different grievance with the article of clothing herself. At this point Burr had moved off somewhere else, leaving Victoria and Alexander with the group of performing men, the two of them grinning broadly as they moved along to the beat. Hercules was a large man in all respects. He had to be the tallest man in the room, as well as the broadest. A soft, grey hat clung to his dark forehead and hid his ears from view. It was something neither Victoria nor Alexander had ever seen before, but it suited the man. 

Laurens collapsed into his chair and grabbed his mug of ale, peering into it and sighing in disappointment when it was empty. “No more sex, pour me another brew, son! Let’s raise a couple more…” He was handed another mug by one of his friends as the gathered around the table, all raising their mugs into the air, calling out in unison:

> “To the revolution!”

Laurens spun around and grinned at the sight of an approaching Burr. “Well, if it ain’t the prodigy of Princeton college!” Mulligan grinning and pounding his mug on the table as he spread his arms in welcome.

> “Aaron Burr!” 
> 
> “Give us a verse, drop some knowledge!” Victoria spun to face her friend at Laurens words and nodded encouragingly. 
> 
> “Come on, Burr.” She grinned teasingly and affected her voice to take on the same cadence and tone as Laurens. “Give us a verse!” He raised his eyebrows at her, seeing a more playful side of her that he had never seen. He knew that she usually kept herself composed so people would take her seriously as she spoke, well aware that her being a woman caused people to brush off her words with a scoff, the teasing was a new development. 
> 
> “Good luck with that: you’re takin’ a stand. You spit. I’m ‘a sit. We’ll see where we land.”

Lafayette and Hercules rolled their eyes and booed loudly, causing Burr to roll his eyes. Laurens peered at Burr with narrowed, analytical eyes, confusion apparent on his face as he spoke. “Burr, the revolution’s imminent. What do you stall for?”

Alexander shook his head and stared at Burr with a mix of disappointment and seriousness. “If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?” The silence after his words was heavy with both shock at Alexander’s boldness, and contemplation of the deep words that had escaped such a young man’s lips. Victoria’s heart leapt in her chest. Not only was the man handsome and full of life, but he was obviously intelligent and opinionated. Shit, she might have fallen in love in that very moment. Laurens was the first to break the silence, his words echoed by his friends.

> “Ooh, Who are you?” 
> 
> “Ooh, who is this kid? What’s he gonna do?” It was a tad strange when they all spoke in unison, Victoria decided. It was obvious they spent almost all their time together. Alexander gestured to the men and they obligingly gave him a beat, the whole tavern seeming to wait for his response.
> 
> “I am not throwing away my shot! Hey yo, I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry, and I’m not throwing away my shot! I’m ‘a get a scholarship to King’s College. I prob’ly shouldn’t brag, but dag, I amaze and astonish. The problem is I got a lot of brains but no polish. I gotta holler just to be heard. With every word, I drop knowledge! I’m a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal tryin’ to reach my goal. My power of speech: unimpeachable. Only nineteen but my mind is older. These New York City streets get colder, I shoulder ev’ry burden, ev’ry disadvantage I have learned to manage, I don’t have a gun to brandish, I walk these streets famished. The plan is to fan this spark into a flame. But damn, it’s getting dark, so let me spell out the name, I am the—” 
> 
> “A-l-e-x-a-n-d e-r—we are—meant to be…” Victoria laughed as they all spelled his name together, joining in halfway through before he continued on his own. She could tell she was in trouble as she’d never been so drawn to anyone in her entire life. 
> 
> “A colony that runs independently. Meanwhile, Britain keeps shittin’ on us endlessly. Essentially, they tax us relentlessly, then King George turns around, runs a spending spree. He ain’t ever gonna set his descendants free, so there will be a revolution in this century. Enter me!” 
> 
> “He says in parentheses.” Victoria really couldn't hold back the unlady like snort that escaped at that, her head tilted to the side as she watched the men intently.
> 
> “Don’t be shocked when your hist’ry book mentions me. I will lay down my life if it sets us free. Eventually, you’ll see my ascendancy, And I am not throwing away my shot. I am not throwing away my shot. Hey yo, I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry and I’m not throwing away my shot.”
> 
> “I am not throwing away my shot. I am not throwing away my shot. Hey yo, I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry and I’m not throwing away my shot. It’s time to take a shot!”

Everyone turned to face Lafayette as he went off. “I dream of life without a monarchy. The unrest in France will lead to ‘onarchy? ‘Onarchy? How you say, how you say, ‘anarchy?’ When I fight, I make the other side panicky. With my—”

> “Shot!”
> 
> “Yo, I’m a tailor’s apprentice, and I got y’all knuckleheads in loco parentis. I’m joining the rebellion cuz I know it’s my chance to socially advance, instead of sewin’ some pants! I’m gonna take a—”
> 
> “Shot!”
> 
> “But we’ll never be truly free until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me, you and I. Do or die. Wait till I sally in on a stallion with the first black battalion have another—” 
> 
> “Shot!” Victoria wanted to clap at both the talent these men were displaying, but also the arguments that were being made. She’d found others with not only her beliefs, but her passions for them. But of course the fun couldn’t go on uninterrupted as Burr showed up with some drinks for the men she was determined to make her friends, and his own opinion on their vocality. 
> 
> “Geniuses, lower your voices. You keep out of trouble and you double your choices. I’m with you, but the situation is fraught. You’ve got to be carefully taught: If you talk, you’re gonna get shot!” The brunette girl scowled and moved to slap Burr on the shoulder before placing her finger over her lips.
> 
> “Burr, check what we got. Mister Lafayette, hard rock like Lancelot, I think your pants look hot, Laurens, I like you a lot. Let’s hatch a plot blacker than the kettle callin’ the pot... What are the odds the gods would put us all in one spot, poppin’ a squat on conventional wisdom, like it or not, a bunch of revolutionary manumission abolitionists? Give me a position, show me where the ammunition is!” Alexander’s shoulders hunched and his voice got quiet as he looked at his feet, embarrassment rolling off of him in waves. “Oh, am I talkin’ too loud? Sometimes I get over excited, shoot off at the mouth. I never had a group of friends before, I promise that I’ll make y’all proud.” Victoria stepped up and placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled reassuringly, having to resist the urge to wrap him up in a protective hug as he looked so vulnerable and small in that moment. Laurens followed her lead and strode over to Alexander, placing his hand on his shoulder and giving him an excited and proud smile. 
> 
> “Let’s get this guy in front of a crowd.”
> 
> “I am not throwing away my shot. I am not throwing away my shot. Hey yo, I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry and I’m not throwing away my shot. I am not throwing away my shot. I am not throwing away my shot. Hey yo, I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry and I’m not throwing away my shot.” The boys danced and moved together around the room, grins so big they had to be painful on all of their faces. Victoria just stood there, smiling and bouncing as she threw back every shot handed to her like a champ, not flinching once. She’d been in the colonies for a few months now and had never once seen a spectacle like this, was this typical? Or were these boys just special? God, she hoped these boys were just special. 

After a few minutes of the whole tavern singing along Alexander took center stage once again, and Victoria was entranced. “I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. When's it gonna get me? In my sleep? Seven feet ahead of me? If I see it comin’, do I run or do I let it be? Is it like a beat without a melody? See, I never thought I’d live past twenty. Where I come from some get half as many. Ask anybody why we livin’ fast and we laugh, reach for a flask, we have to make this moment last, that’s plenty. Scratch that, this is not a moment, it’s the movement where all the hungriest brothers with something to prove went? Foes oppose us, we take an honest stand, we roll like Moses, claimin’ our promised land. And? If we win our independence? ‘Zat a guarantee of freedom for our descendants? Or will the blood we shed begin an endless cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants? I know the action in the street is excitin’, but Jesus, between all the bleedin’ ‘n fightin’ I’ve been readin’ ‘n writin’. We need to handle our financial situation. Are we a nation of states? What’s the state of our nation? I’m past patiently waitin’. I’m passionately smashin’ every expectation, every action’s an act of creation! I’m laughin’ in the face of casualties and sorrow, for the first time, I’m thinkin’ past tomorrow. And I am not throwing away my shot. I am not throwing away my shot. Hey yo, I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry and I’m not throwing away my shot.” 

> “We’re gonna rise up! Time to take a shot! We’re gonna rise up! Time to take a shot! We’re gonna rise up!”

Hamilton turned to the group’s table and snatched a glass, raising it up over his head. “Time to take a shot!” So she did. She probably shouldn’t have, she should have probably started slowing down, but she took one every time the boys said to, and somehow the room hadn’t started spinning yet. Alexander, John, Lafayette, and Hercules laughed and threw their arms around each other, stumbling slightly and leaning against each other as they made their way back to the table. When they made it to the table Victoria was leaning there with sparkling eyes and an amused smile, causing the boys to stop short.

Lafayette leaned back and looked her up and down leisurely with burning eyes. “And who is your incroyablement belle amie , Alex?” 

The glare Alexander sent Lafayette was brief and subtle, but got the message across. The man held his hands up in surrender and nodded his concession. “I don’t know, actually.” He stepped forward and held his hand out for her own. “Alexander Hamilton, and you are?” 

Victoria almost scowled as she felt herself blushed, annoyed at her own body- not Alexander- before placing her hand in his. “Victoria Fraser.” He grinned and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, keeping ahold of her hand for a few seconds too long after he straightened up.

> “A beautiful girl with a beautiful accent. Is that some of Scotland I hear in your voice?”
> 
> “It is.” She grinned teasingly and quirked a brow. “I’m impressed. Most assume I’m Irish. You know many Scottish lasses, Mr. Hamilton, sir?” 
> 
> “I do not, Miss. Fraser. You are the first. I imagine any other I meet could never measure up.” She laughed, throwing her head back and shaking it as he watched her with sparkling, intelligent eyes. 
> 
> “Do flatter every woman you meet, Mr. Hamilton? A bit of a flirt, aren’t you?” 
> 
> “Every woman is deserving of compliments, but none so deserving as you.” The others shared looks at how the two before them seemed to have forgotten their presence, too caught up in each other already, grinning as they moved around them to reclaim their seats and leave Alexander and Victoria to their flirting. 
> 
> “I’ll have you know, Mr. Hamilton, that I am not just a pretty face.”
> 
> “Oh?”
> 
> “Oh. I take pride in my rather sharp mind.” She took a step closer and peered up at him with challenging eyes. “Most men tell me I’m too opinionated for a woman, and much too vocal of those opinions. Burr was the first to listen rather than scold. What about you, Mr. Hamilton? Do you think a woman better seen than heard?”
> 
> “I think a woman who knows her own mind and is unafraid to speak it is far too rare. What opinions do you hold, Miss. Fraser, that men scold you for?” 
> 
> “I think the Crown is cruel and outdated, that revolution is not only needed, but inevitable. I think that not a single person is truly free when there are still people in chains. I think women are just as capable as men, and that our emotions rule us no more than yours rule you. I think that I have more to say than could ever be said in a polite conversation. Are you afraid of a woman as intelligent as you, sir?”
> 
> “Far from it, Miss. Fraser. I think I have never been as attracted to a woman as I am to you in this moment.” Her answering grin was blinding, her shoulders seeming to relax, causing him to realise how afraid she was of his response, and she really had been. She’d been terrified he’d scowl and tell her that it was not her place to hold such beliefs before striding off. She was so afraid of that she’d have gotten her hopes up that she had found her match, only to have those hopes dashed. Those fears were unfounded and she’d never been so relieved. Except perhaps for when she finally stepped onto Colony land after being chased from Scotland. 
> 
> “Well, Mr. Hamilton. Then it seems you are one of a kind.”
> 
> “Oh, I know, Miss. Fraser.”

* * *

_Incroyblament belle amie_ : incredibly beautiful friend


End file.
